Promises
by Surreptitious Chi X
Summary: AU after SotS. Request fic. Jarlaxle and Artemis hunt down an arms dealer working for the wrong side in Unther. The Dynamic Duo Special: Blood, guts, and fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story is not connected to any of my other stories. It is AU as of the end of Servant of the Shard. It assumes that Jarlaxle and Artemis ended up in Unther, during the period in which Mulhorand has conquered the country and killed Gilgeam. I wrote this story by request of Ariel D, so no comments about ripping her off. ;p She asked for a hurt/comfort story and my choice of setting is okay by her.

**Warning:** The purpose of this story is fluff.

You have been so warned.

Promises

* * *

_This is ridiculous,_ Artemis thought. _The moment we enter this clearing, a slew of men suddenly flood in, ready to fight us._ He met the situation with the sense of irritation and exhilaration that he was beginning to identify as the normal result of doing a job with Jarlaxle.

The assassin deflected his opponent's sword out wide and then stabbed him.

Across the clearing, Jarlaxle fought four or five men at once, laughing like a maniac. Their attackers seemed far more interested in cutting down an outrageously garbed drow than a small, slim Calishite.

Artemis shook his head. They'd left Messemprar a week ago on their mission, and Jarlaxle hadn't stopped having fun yet. He was tempted to ask Jarlaxle what was so fun about stopping an arms dealer who was backing a group of rebels, but he knew better. Jarlaxle would come up with another answer that didn't make sense, such as it was their solemn responsibility to fight for Unther's freedom from Gilgeam's followers, supporting Mulhorand would open doors for them in the expanding empire, and wasn't the scenery beautiful.

He easily turned and gutted an opponent who didn't think he'd been paying attention. He had to step on the man's throat to meet the thrust of another attacker. Entreri had to admit he didn't feel much regret at the dying man's strangled response.

In one, two, three strokes, the next man was down.

"Artemis! Watch out!"

Artemis heard a whizzing. He brought Charon's Claw up just in time, deflecting the arrow. "Take care of it!"

"I will!" Jarlaxle called back.

Entreri charged in the opposite direction, laying into a tight knot of swordsmen. The spellcaster they were trying to protect stammered out a spell and threw a bright green bolt of some sort.

Artemis knew better than to let the unknown spell hit him. He tore off his cloak and flung it out in front of him. The green energy hit his cloak and burst, burning through the wool with a foul-smelling hiss.

"Acid," the assassin commented, cutting down the swordsmen. They fell to the ground almost at the same time, like dominoes. He came face to face with the mage. "That's not very polite."

The mage drew breath to make a retort.

Artemis stabbed him in the stomach, and then slit his throat.

He turned just in time to see a figure fleeing into the woods. There was only one person that could be.

"Damn it! The archer got away." Artemis kicked a rock in frustration. "Do you think he'll reach the others in time to render our plan inoperable?"

He turned, surprised, at the lack of response, naturally expecting Jarlaxle to have joined his side in the few seconds since the battle ended. Jarlaxle always did.

His heart skipped a beat. Jarlaxle was…lying on the ground. The mercenary was reaching for something. Artemis followed the direction of Jarlaxle's useless groping and saw the mercenary's healing orb several feet away, butted up against a protruding stone.

_Why didn't he cry out?_

"Jarlaxle?" Artemis was already moving towards his companion before he consciously made the decision.

Jarlaxle stopped reaching towards the fallen orb the moment he heard his name and instead spent the next few moments before Artemis crossed the clearing forcing a smile onto his face. Artemis saw it all with rising disbelief. _He didn't say a word. He didn't say a single word…to let me know._

Artemis stood over Jarlaxle, trying to gather his thoughts. "What happened?" But he saw it clearly enough. The shaft of an arrow protruded from Jarlaxle's bare abdomen, high and to the side.

"A minor setback," Jarlaxle said, his voice as strained as his smile.

Artemis didn't ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. _Why didn't you – why don't you – ask me for help? _"You're bleeding," he said flatly.

"A little," Jarlaxle said. "I will rise in a moment." He tried, as a matter of fact, to lift himself up, only managed to shift by a few inches, and lay flat on his back. "I am…resting."

There was so much blood. Artemis Entreri's stomach clenched, and he wondered why the smell of blood suddenly came back to him as clearly as if he were nine years old again. He'd become hardened to the sight and smell of blood so quickly, become…detached.

Artemis shook his head, trying to shake off the gut-wrenching impact. Why was he suddenly so thin-skinned? Why did he feel so hot and tight and constricted? What was this feeling, this half-remembered, horrible feeling?

He dropped to his knees beside Jarlaxle, trembling. He took the drow mercenary's twitching hand in his own. Artemis found himself muttering, "It's alright. I'm here now." His mind was somewhere far away, looking at another death. When he came back to the present, he looked into Jarlaxle's eyes and saw death reflected there, too. He squeezed Jarlaxle's hand. "I'm here now."

He helped Jarlaxle into a sitting position. The drow's breathing labored noisily, made harsh by pain. The arrow…Artemis touched its bloody steel head and wondered at the wealth of arms dealers who could send anonymous archers to shoot bits of steel through people. "It missed your internal organs. Trust me."

Jarlaxle let out a laugh that was more like a sob. "It only hurts."

"Yes." Artemis found himself rubbing Jarlaxle's back, preparing Jarlaxle for the pain that was to come.

Jarlaxle, somehow sensing his thoughts, tensed. "No, wait."

Artemis inwardly cursed. "Shh. Relax."

"No – _k-khal_ –"

"I have to," Artemis insisted. The sick feeling in his stomach grew as he imagined Jarlaxle's screams. "As soon as possible. How else am I going to be able to heal you?"

Artemis couldn't fool himself that Jarlaxle's responding sobs sounded anything like laughter. "Promise me that it won't hurt."

"Jarlaxle –" _I can't lie. I can't lie about that!_

"Please!"

Artemis put his hand on the arrow quickly, trying to cut Jarlaxle off.

Jarlaxle flinched, and to his wonder, he let go, physically unable to go through with it as long as Jarlaxle made that expression.

"Just promise me it won't hurt!"

"I have to do this. It's not my fault," Artemis insisted.

"Promise!"

"Alright!" Artemis snapped, absurdly turning his anger on the mercenary. "It won't hurt! You hear? It won't hurt!" Sheer anger gave him the strength to rip the arrow out of Jarlaxle's side.

Jarlaxle didn't make a noise. Somehow, incredibly, he held his breath in, at the cost of the tears streaming down his face. He turned and wrapped his arms around the assassin, leaning against him. "Thank you, _khal abbil_."

Artemis touched Jarlaxle's side. "You're still bleeding."

"It didn't hurt that much."

Artemis stared at Jarlaxle in surprise. He didn't understand anything that had passed between them: his concern, Jarlaxle's demand for a promise that Artemis couldn't possibly fulfill, Jarlaxle's subsequent silence.

"You'll still bleed to death," Artemis said. He let go of Jarlaxle long enough to retrieve the orb that had rolled out of Jarlaxle's reach. When Artemis returned, Jarlaxle wrapped him back up in his arms. He rested his head on the assassin's collarbone and closed his eyes.

Entreri healed him without comment. When the glow of the orb finally faded, he ran his hand over Jarlaxle's abdomen to make sure the drow was healed. A surprisingly tiny scar was all that remained. He helped Jarlaxle stand up and assessed the damage with a snort. "You're filthy."

"I am?" Jarlaxle looked down at himself.

"You're covered in your own blood," Artemis said.

Jarlaxle sighed. "And blood is like wine."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It's a bitch to get out."

Entreri rolled his eyes. "Your vanity is intact."

Jarlaxle turned and smiled over his should coquettishly. "Mm-hmm. Not a scratch."

"Shall we chase after one fleeing, cowardly archer?" Artemis asked, gesturing in the gentlemanly way.

Jarlaxle tipped his hat to the assassin.

* * *

As they stalked their prey through the woods, drawing inexorably nearer to the rebel hideout, Artemis found himself staying much closer to Jarlaxle's elbow, looking constantly around them for any signs of danger. _Why?_ he asked himself. _What would I do even if there was another archer waiting for us? What could I possibly do?_ He was no more immune to a sudden death than Jarlaxle was. Would he take an arrow for the mercenary?

Artemis faltered in his step. Jarlaxle glanced at him, but other than a slight smile, the drow made no response. Artemis Entreri almost halted because unwanted self-awareness had suddenly crashed down upon him in a tidal wave. He would. He would take an arrow for Jarlaxle, knowing that it might mean his death.

Artemis looked at Jarlaxle in barely concealed wonder. _I care. I care about him that much._ He shook his head. _But why?_

Jarlaxle met his eyes, and he turned quickly away, scanning the forest for danger. For a moment, he tried to argue with himself, saying to himself that Jarlaxle was a mercenary, a client ultimately like any other client, a partner. But then he stopped short, struck by the connotations that word now had for him. A partner. Yes, a partner…A partner as in someone who shared things with him. A _partner_: someone to share his successes and disappointments with, a person to share his burdens and his joys.

Annoyingly, he felt his throat tightening. A person…to share his joys.

Did he have joys? Thanks to Dwahvel, he knew that he did. He could laugh as well as despair, smile as well as sneer…and, perhaps, love instead of…despise?

Artemis scowled. _This thinking brings me nothing._

"Do you see anything?" Jarlaxle asked softly.

"Nothing," Entreri said, glad to be called back to the task at hand. "If he is going to warn his cronies, he hasn't reached them yet."

"Good," Jarlaxle said. "All may still be well." All the same, Artemis noticed Jarlaxle had a dagger in each hand, ready to throw.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The rebel base turned out to be no more than a shack in the woods. Artemis and Jarlaxle approached cautiously, but the assassin saw no one.

"Do we go in?" Artemis asked.

Jarlaxle rubbed his chin. He gestured to Entreri in drow hand sign as he did so, masking the movements with his show of thought. _We are surrounded. They are cloaked in invisibility. _Aloud, the mercenary said, "It is barely possible that the man we seek lives inside."

"We have come all this way," Artemis agreed. "I would hate to come for nothing. We should at least check before reporting back to Messemprar."

"It should only take a second, either way," Jarlaxle said.

Artemis kicked in the door of the shack, Charon's Claw drawn, ready for any sight but the one he encountered.

A small, balding man sat on a chair in the middle of the empty shack, hands politely folded in his lap. He wore the attire of a successful merchant, dyed in somber gray. "I know who you are," the man said. "You are the mercenaries sent to kill me. And I am –"

"Arturius Margulo," Jarlaxle said.

The arms dealer glared. "Yes. I see you have come…well-prepared." He stood up and snapped his fingers.

Jarlaxle and Artemis suddenly found themselves surrounded by archers. They all trained those deadly steel-tipped arrows on the mercenaries. Margulo grinned, revealing a missing canine and several fillings. "I, too, am well prepared." He gestured to his archers. "As you can see. What say you?" The arm's dealer made a show of taking in Jarlaxle's bloodstained clothes. "Did you enjoy my wares?" He chuckled, a high, whining sound.

Artemis had an irresistible impulse to squash a gnat. "I shall enjoy holding you down and shoving one of your special arrows down your throat."

Margulo scoffed. "And how will you manage that?"

"We are more prepared than you think," Jarlaxle said. He showed off a turquoise ring against his cheek and smiled, revealing his white, perfectly set teeth.

"Get them!" Margulo yelled.

Jarlaxle twisted the ring a quarter turn to the right.

Time slowed down. Entreri saw arrows churn through the air as if through water, leaving strange, glowing ripples in the air.

Jarlaxle effortlessly batted the arrows out of the air in a spinning move, daggers in both hands, not slowed down in the least. He nodded at Artemis.

The assassin rushed forward, secretly amazed at this new toy of Jarlaxle's. He whipped through the archers surrounding them, slicing them up. They didn't even bleed.

Jarlaxle stood back, counting down with his hands. He snapped his fingers. At the same moment, time rushed back to the frozen figures. Blood gushed from the archers, spraying Jarlaxle, Artemis, and the arms dealer with fine spray. Broken arrows rained down as the archers collapsed in a state of blood and gore Artemis Entreri had hardly seen. He glanced at the mutilated bodies, bemused. As if a string had been yanked, their bodies fell apart all at once. His simple test of Jarlaxle's ring proved that any number of actions could be taken, until the effect ran out, and still the chain of actions would count as happening simultaneously.

"Now, I think you shall surrender," Jarlaxle said.

The arms dealer looked rather green. "I surrender," he said faintly.

"Good," Jarlaxle said. "Now we shall interrogate you."

"About what?" Margulo protested.

"First of all, about how you came to the conclusion you had the right to supply an army's worth of weaponry when you can't stand a little blood," Jarlaxle said cheerfully.

"My job has nothing to do with – with this." Margulo gestured at the mutilated archers. "This is all your doing! You and the rest of the sadistic bastards of the world. Freaks. Vigilantes." He shook his head.

Artemis was perfectly incredulous. "Me? Sadistic bastard?" He took a step forward, suddenly motivated to behead the odious man. "What do you call yourself?"

"A responsible citizen, helping law-abiders upholding the law," Margulo said. "This land is Gilgeam's, you know."

"Gilgeam is dead," Jarlaxle said. "But, surely you knew that."

"The rebels have no right –"

"You are the rebels!" Artemis grabbed the front of his tunic. "Mulhorand won, death-dealer."

"You are the death dealer," Margulo said. "I am only a peddler. You are an assassin." He pulled free and smoothed down his tunic. "You kill people."

"And what do you do?" Artemis demanded.

The arms dealer looked taken aback. "My weapons don't kill people. People kill people."

"It's irresponsible!" Entreri exclaimed. He didn't know what prompted him to say that. "You supply them, knowing they'll hack each other's heads off! Knowing they'll drive steel shafts through children, bomb each other's houses…" He trailed off. He'd never felt so impassioned by the thought…or as confused by the fact that he was achieving an emotional height he usually couldn't touch.

Shaken, he turned to Jarlaxle, silently hoping the mercenary would sense his dissolving clarity and take over.

Jarlaxle stepped in, both calm and firm. "The fact of the matter is, you are a traitor. We have been hired by the government of Mulhorand, and we will uphold justice."

Had Artemis Entreri been in full control of his wits, he would have choked on such a statement on his behalf. As it was, he rolled his eyes at the melodrama and let Jarlaxle continue to handle the situation.

Jarlaxle tapped his lower lip. "What treasures have the fallen masters of Gilgeam's faith offered you in return, I wonder? Mere wealth…or something more?"

The arms dealer glared at Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle made a show of shrugging and sighing. "Ah, well." In a split second, he slit the arms dealer's throat, flashing up behind the man with dagger in hand. The dealer fell to the floor with a familiar thump, the sound of a skull hitting the ground far too hard.

Jarlaxle stepped over the body and rejoined Artemis. "You impressed me with your speech."

Artemis turned away. "Don't start."

"Stay with me, and at this rate, you too will be a master of the heroic soliloquy."

"That is not one of my goals."

Jarlaxle draped his arm around Artemis' shoulders. "What, then? What is your goal, upon traveling this path?"

Artemis snorted. "I don't know. I should probably quit right here, before I get too much deeper in with you." He glanced at Jarlaxle and smirked. "But you know I won't."

Jarlaxle made an assenting noise. "Your judgment has ever been lacking." He smiled back. "That is why you need me."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think?"

"You do," Jarlaxle said. "Even if you don't think that you do."

"I am not the one with the questionable thought processes," Artemis said.

"Females are an acquired taste," Jarlaxle said. "That does not make me insane."

"I am not speaking of your sexual exploits," Artemis said. "Get your head out of the gutter."

"Then what are you speaking of?" Jarlaxle asked. "I had all this Margulo business wrapped up. We were never in danger for a moment – thanks to my superior planning, my wisdom, my handsomeness –"

"Never for a moment?" Artemis asked.

Jarlaxle paused. Then he said, quite deliberately light, "Perhaps for a moment, a mere fraction of a second –"

"When the arrow passed through your body?" Artemis asked.

Jarlaxle frowned. "It is not as though I could not handle a minor –"

"You couldn't get up," Artemis said.

"I chose not to get up," Jarlaxle said.

Artemis crossed his arms. "You were completely helpless, on the ground."

Jarlaxle scowled. "I defy you to prove such an accusation."

"You lost three pints of blood," Artemis said.

Jarlaxle scoffed. "Surely not that much."

"You are wearing it."

Jarlaxle looked down at himself.

"In another five minutes you would have bled out," Artemis said. He held up two fingers in front of Jarlaxle's face. "Two minutes, and you would have been unconscious. You didn't speak, and if I didn't look for you…You. Would. Be. Dead."

Jarlaxle wore an incredulous expression, as if he'd never been scolded before in his life. "What is the meaning of this, abbil? Are you trying to say that my incompetence –"

"Shut up!" Artemis snapped. He made a clamping motion. "Shut your mouth, close your lips, and listen to me. I am not accusing you of incompetence."

Jarlaxle's visible eye burned resentfully. "What are you accusing me of, then?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Frankly? In a word? Not caring."

"That is two words," Jarlaxle said.

Artemis stared at him.

Jarlaxle sputtered. "And – and anyway, Artemis! Not caring? Where did you get an idea like that?"

"What good are you to me dead?" Artemis yelled. "What good are you then?"

Jarlaxle looked...confused. He took off his hat and ran a hand over his bald head.

"Do you think I rescued you from Crenshinibon for fun?" Artemis yelled. "Is that what you think?" He flung his hand up. "Fun? It was not fun, Jarlaxle! It was necessary!"

"If you think that I am that incompetent –"

"Forget about the supposed incompetence! It's not about that!"

"Then what is it about?" Jarlaxle asked.

"This is about friendship!" Artemis exclaimed.

Jarlaxle went very still. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Friendship?" His voice was timid.

Artemis snorted in exasperation, shook his head, and exhaled. "Yes, Jarlaxle, friendship. Friendship? That mythical thing you have preached to me about a thousand times? I decided to take that seriously. Then you almost try to kill yourself by not asking for help."

"I…I thought…You were busy." Jarlaxle wrung the brim of his hat in his hands.

"Not that busy," Artemis said. "What did you expect me to do? Leave you there to die?"

"Anyone else I know would have." Jarlaxle glared at him.

Artemis looked at Jarlaxle incredulously. "You can't tell me you wanted me to leave you like that."

"I didn't," Jarlaxle said. He looked away. "Of course I didn't."

Artemis closed the distance between them and touched Jarlaxle's arm. "Then what is the problem?"

"You told me to handle it." Jarlaxle stared off into the woods. "You told me to take care of it. I said I would…and – and the archer got away. He managed to flee before I…" He sighed. "Well, I…I just assumed…you wouldn't want anything to do with me, after…Well, healing me would hardly be important."

Artemis put his hands on Jarlaxle's shoulders and forced the mercenary to face him. "Victory or failure, you are still my friend."

Jarlaxle met Artemis' eyes. His expression was carefully blank. "Thank you, Artemis. Thank you."

"Next time, just ask for help," Artemis said.

Jarlaxle turned away. "It is not always that easy."

Artemis grabbed Jarlaxle's arm and forced the mercenary to turn around. "Well, make it easy."

Jarlaxle looked at him warily. "How?"

"I promise you that when you need my help, you have but to ask and I am there," Artemis said. "If you ever start to feel any doubts, remember what I say now and try it." He gave Jarlaxle a shake. He looked deeply into Jarlaxle's uncovered eye. "Promise me that you will remember and just say my name whenever you need me. Don't think. Don't ask, 'Is this the right time?' Don't analyze whether or not I should come. Just tell me to."

"But –" Jarlaxle stammered.

"Promise!" Artemis yelled, tightening his grip.

Jarlaxle jumped. "Alright…alright, I…" He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Alright, _khal abbil_, I promise. If I am in trouble, I will not try to handle it alone. I will call you."

"Good." Artemis finally released him, turning his arm loose. He strode towards the door. "You do that and we won't have any problems."

Jarlaxle followed, seeming subdued. Artemis thought Jarlaxle might stay that way the whole journey back to Messemprar. He was surprised when Jarlaxle spoke up again a few moments later. "You know, _khal abbil_…"

Artemis looked at Jarlaxle over his shoulder. "Yes? What is it?"

Jarlaxle gave him a little smile. "I think you will make a fine paladin after all."

"And I think your intestines will make a fine accordion, after all," Artemis retorted.

Jarlaxle looked at him reproachfully. "Intestines? Accordion? That does not make any sense, Artemis. Really."

"Neither does Artemis Entreri becoming a paladin," Artemis said.

"It makes more sense than your musical theory," Jarlaxle said.

"I don't write the music, I just make it," Artemis said. He cracked his knuckles and smiled. "Now that, is music."

Jarlaxle shook his head. "That is a deplorable habit –"

"One that you will rid me of in a simple twelve week program designed to rip the very soul from my body?" Artemis asked.

"I am not a soul-ripper," Jarlaxle said. "Nor will I ever be."

Artemis smirked. Everything was back to normal.


End file.
